


Voices

by stileskolpath



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: BAMF Stiles, Derek Feels, Hurt Derek, M/M, Magical Stiles Stilinski, POV Derek Hale, Stiles Saves The Day, Wolf Derek
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-07-25
Updated: 2013-07-25
Packaged: 2017-12-21 08:55:52
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,996
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/898364
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/stileskolpath/pseuds/stileskolpath
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A completely random fic I wrote based on this picture that alphavenger posted and halesparkles reblogged on tumblr (here is the link: http://halesparkles.tumblr.com/post/55202737821)</p><p>Anywho, it was completely random, but I liked the idea.<br/>**<br/>Derek is captured by Deucalion, and finds out that Stiles can get into his head. He isn't sure if this is a good thing or bad thing, but it might be just what he needs to keep him alive.</p><p>Enjoy!</p><p>-Stiles Kolpath</p>
            </blockquote>





	Voices

Derek knew he was going to die. He often welcomed the release that death would bring him, because with it came the promise of rejoining his family, taken from him all those years ago. He willed Deucalion, who was busy monologuing in front of him to do him in for good. He was tired of fighting. He had Derek trussed up, and had taken to slashing him with the point of his cane to emphasize his various talking points. With a wolfsbane-infused blade. It had happened so many times by now that Derek resembled a large cut of meat, bleeding from a dozen different deep wounds across his body, which would not heal, thanks to the wolfsbane.

Derek thought about it, and for some reason, Stiles jumped into his head. More specifically, Stiles’ voice.

"What are you doing?"

Derek didn’t answer.

"Derek." Stiles’ voice was firmer, but pleading. He still didn’t answer.

“Derek."

"What?" Even his mind was slowing as his lifeblood drained from his body. 

"What are you doing?" Stiles repeated the question inside Derek’s mind.

"Dying." Derek managed the one-word answer only barely, even if it was silently made to himself. He could almost feel the judgmental scowl from Stiles in his mind. “Go away."

"No."

"Yes. Leave me alone."

"No, because if I do, you will die."

"Did it ever occur to you that I might want to?" Derek growled to himself. Deucalion paused his eons-long speech. Derek didn’t really notice.

"Yes, that is why I’m here." Of course Stiles knew that. He was a figment of Derek’s imagination. So it only made logical sense that Stiles knew what he was thinking.

"No you aren’t."

"Whatever, semantics. Just, hold on." Derek ignored him.

"Please? For me?" Stiles said it almost jokingly, but Derek’s heart still skipped a beat. Which was odd, considering how much blood he had lost, and was continuing to lose. Derek didn’t say anything, but his body was listening to Stiles now, not him. Somehow, despite the poison coursing through his veins, his heart started beating faster. His wounds began mending themselves. Usually Derek would need days to recover from injuries this extensive. But somehow, the blood dripping from his wounds was doing so with less frequency, and the wounds themselves were beginning to scab over, trying to push out the wolfsbane and seal themselves agains it.

"If I’m not here, how are you healing?" Somehow, he could hear Stiles smirking at that. He didn’t notice the voice return to his mind.

"… I… I don’t know."

"Remember what Peter said about human love?" Derek remembered it. He had also dismissed it as his insane uncle’s inane ramblings. That couldn’t be why his healing was accelerating. It had to be something else.

"You are trying to find a logical reason why a werewolf is healing when he shouldn’t be? Really?" Stiles sounded sarcastic. His senses were returning to their full strength. He knew Deucalion would be able to as well. In fact, the blind alpha had stopped speaking, and was folding his cane back into itself menacingly. Derek began to struggle against his bounds. The rope must have been infused with wolfsbane as well. Great. There was no way he was going to break out of those.

“Not out, through.” Stiles’ voice came from behind his ear, as quiet as a whisper. It made him start. Deucalion noticed, and was trying to hear what was happening. Derek knew he definitely noticed the uptick in his heartbeat. You know, from almost dead to sprinting in his chest. He looked up at the blind alpha, who was not looking at him. He was listening to noises outside the room they were in.

Come to think of it, Derek heard them too. He heard faint growls, the slashing of distant claws through flesh and clothing, and the sounds of bodies as they hit the ground. Some got back up, some didn’t. Soundless explosions peppered the other sounds. Derek knew that a battle of some kind was happening.

Then Deucalion finally spoke. “Your friends are coming.” His words were menacing. They made Derek fight harder to slide his claws out of the bounds. He could feel them grating the skin off of wrists, as he tried to rip them through the rough-hewn ropes. “I would hate to see them get hurt.” He put down his cane, and allowed his claws to extend. Derek had never seen the blind alpha transition fully. Truth be told, it was terrifying, mostly because Deucalion’s outward appearance changed so little. He continued to struggle at his ropes. The wolf advanced on the door, glaring at Derek. “Especially the human male with them.” Derek stopped struggling instantly. Stiles. The panic hit him harder as he struggled, one of his claws was almost free.

“Derek, you need to hurry.” Stiles’ voice was calm and low in his ear.

“I need to get to Deucalion,” he snarled. The alpha was near the door, waiting for the scuffling sounds on the other side to try to get in.

“What you need to do is get your claws free, and get behind something, now.” Derek gave one final pull, and with a growling yelp, he jerked one claw free, and whipped his body behind the column he was still partially attached to, ignoring the cracking of his other, still-bound wrist as he did so. He winced in pain, just as the door was blown off its hinges. Derek shut his eyes as the shockwave hit him, along with searing heat, shattered bits of metal and stone.

What happened next, Derek could neither hear nor see. His vision went black, and the ringing in his ears was intense and pulsing, keeping even his own heartbeat, slamming away in his chest, silent to his ears. Figures rushed around him. His ears caught the top edges of a snarl, and the blast of something that sounded like a gunshot. His nose mingled the smell of gunpowder, wolfsbane, silver, and assorted other debris together, and he knew what happened. His vision just started to clear as he slid down the column. His last sight was looking up and seeing Stiles over him, mouthing something he couldn’t catch.

**

Derek woke up in his own bed. His arm was tightly bound with some kind of foul-smelling and thick bandage wrapped around his still-broken wrist. He doesn’t need to open his eyes to know that Stiles is sitting next to the bed. His scent is overpowering. It is tinged with…something Derek can’t quite put a finger on. Well, at least, if his hand weren’t messed up.

“Stiles.” Derek groaned as he opened his eyes for the first time, looking to where the human was sitting in a chair he had pulled into the room, elbows on his knees, hands clasped behind his head. He was fidgeting. He was nervous. His body totally relaxed when Derek said his name.

“Look who’s up.” He manages a half-smile. Derek got the impression that it was hiding something. “You were out cold for like three days.”

 

Bits and pieces were coming back to Derek. “What happened?”

“Well, Deucalion was holding you in that abandoned mall, because you know, perfect place for a little alpha-torture, really, right there.” Stiles didn’t pause to breathe. “When we came in to get you, the only way we could get through that door he had barricaded was with some kind of explosives that Allison…borrowed from her dad. That pretty much took out Deucalion single-handedly. I mean, he was still alive, tried to come after me, but Allison had a big-ass shotgun, and well, it got messy. Wolfsbane buckshot and all.” Stiles still didn’t stop to breathe. “Then we kind of lost you.” There was a pause. Derek’s chest tightened when he saw the anguish on Stiles’ face. That was what he was trying to hide before, he cared. It was more than Derek could take. He essentially hadn’t had someone who was actually concerned for his well-being around him since his family died. He choked down the sudden urge to pull Stiles into his arms.

“Stiles, can I tell you something?” Stiles eyed him suspiciously. He would have too, that was surprisingly loquacious for the normally sour wolf.

“Anything.” Again with the sincerity. What was this human doing to him.

“You were in my head while Deucalion had me. Literally. Talking to me, telling me what to do. Keeping me calm. It almost seemed like you were really there, like I wasn’t making it up.” Then something happened. Derek felt a rush of emotions radiate off Stiles in an instant, a combination of panic, surprise, and something that Derek hadn’t felt in years. Stiles’ eyes grew wide. The rush stopped instantly. Then the human smiled gently, trying to mask his earlier reaction.

“That is because you weren’t.” Stiles sighed. He stared at the ground and rubbed his foot absent-mindedly into the floor, as if trying to dig a hole in which to bury himself.

Derek tries to see where this is going and sits up against the headboard, getting quickly distracted by Stiles’ profile. He decides to ask the obvious question. “What does that mean?”

Stiles sighed again and looked at Derek. He kept his mouth closed, but Derek still heard his voice in his mind nonetheless.

“It means that I am in your head.” Stiles was looking at Derek intently, but his mouth was closed. Stiles’ voice echoed inside the werewolf’s skull. Derek fought to repress his thoughts about Stiles, and simply by trying, all of them flooded to the surface. Stiles’ intoxicating scent, the endearing looks Derek found irresistible, the way Stiles would always try to help his friends, Stiles touching Derek, pressing his hands to the alpha’s body, kissing his lips, the two of them writhing in… Derek struggled to catch himself. He noticed Stiles was flushing red. He met his eyes briefly, and then quickly turned his face to the floor, willing his ears to cease their burning.

Derek felt Stiles’ voice recede. His response came in words. “Wow… Derek…”

“Whatever, Stiles. It’s not important.” Derek tried to change the subject. He did not want to talk about it.

Stiles was calm. And quiet, for a few minutes. Derek didn’t think he had it in him. Then he spoke. “Why didn’t you tell me?” Derek didn’t really have an answer for that.

After a long moment, Derek responded, still staring at the ground at his feet, cradling his broken wrist in his uninjured hand on his lap. “Because I was afraid.”

Stiles choked a laugh down. “You? Afraid? Of what? You are the big bad wolf. Nothing scares you.” Stiles chuckled again, and shook his head. Derek knew he was lying. Stiles had been inside his head. The thought both enticed and terrified the alpha.

Derek felt like an awkward teenager. “Nothing. Drop it, Stiles.”

“You know I won’t.”

“You will,” Derek growled.

“Actually, I don’t think so.” Stiles was still seated, still calm, but the words had a definite edge to them. Derek knew that his mind was an open book, and if Stiles needed an answer, he would simply have to crack it open to find what he was looking for.

“You are afraid that I don’t like you back.” Stiles said what he was thinking. It was stupid, Derek would admit, and he worried that getting close to anyone romantically might get them hurt or killed, but even that particular fear stemmed from this one. It was better for everyone if Derek still didn’t have anyone in his life that loved him.

Derek chanced a quick sideways glance at Stiles, who was looking at him intently. When their eyes met, Derek pulled his instantly back to the ground at his feet. Stiles chuckled. “Remember what I said about love?”

Derek didn’t. Stiles seemed to know this, and clarified. “Back in the warehouse, when you were with Deucalion.” Stiles paused, staring blankly at something near the floor in the far corner of the room as he talked. “Why do you think you healed so quickly?”

It all made sense to Derek now. Stiles’ mere presence inside Derek’s head had reversed the poisonous effects of the wolfsbane. It had pushed the flesh closed over the slashes Deucalion had given him, and numbed the pain.

“You love me?” Derek asked no one in particular. His heart sped up as he waited for Stiles’ response seven milliseconds later.

“What do you think?” Stiles softly chuckled.

Derek knew the answer he wanted it to be, but he wasn’t sure. He had the smallest flicker of doubt in his mind. He went for it anyway. “Yes…?”

Stiles chuckled again and smiled at the ground. “As much as you love me. That is the only way that it works.”

Derek stopped to think about that one, and then he remembered that he didn’t need to. Stiles already knew what he was thinking. Derek continued to stare at the ground, trying to suppress his thoughts. Stiles’ chair creaked as he got up and walked over to the werewolf, and kneeled down in front of him, looking up to catch his eyes. Derek suddenly didn’t want to suppress anything anymore.

 

Derek shifted his gaze to Stiles’ face. It was perfect. Expecting. Knowing. Derek found himself terrified and exhilarated at the same time. His heart began hammering away in his chest. Stiles put a hand on his cheek and brought his face up towards Derek’s, lightly placing a kiss on the alpha’s lips. Derek leaned in as Stiles pulled away, synapses missing the long-awaited touch of the human’s lips already.

“You are an idiot,” Stiles chuckled to Derek’s lips. Yup, Stiles was definitely in Derek’s mind. Sitting there, in some kind of leather-backed chair, reading books. Except the books are Derek’s thoughts. But Stiles reads them nonetheless. His eyes trailing across each word Derek knows the pages contain, and he laughs, or his face tightens, or he sniffs slightly and lets a solitary tear escape otherwise glassy, golden-brown eyes. Derek really likes those eyes. They were staring at him now, flicking back and forth between each of Derek’s, a few inches away. Stiles’ smile had faltered, but his face had turned into a blank expression. His cheeks reddened, and Derek wondered what he did to make that happen.

Stiles chuckled again and looked away. “Don’t worry, it’s nothing that you did.” Derek still cycled through everything he had thought about in the last few minutes, and even added a few new things in paranoia, trying to figure out the cause. It was no use, and Stiles put a hand on Derek’s neck, absentmindedly stroking the werewolf’s stubble with his thumb as he did so. Derek got a flood of emotions and thoughts from Stiles the instant their skin made contact. He let them wash over him. He caught a glimpse of himself underneath Stiles, wrapped around each other, combined, almost, and he felt the warmth that thought brought to his heart, which began jumping out of his chest. Without a word, he grabbed Stiles by the hips and moved to pull the human on top of him on the bed. Stiles flailed awkwardly, because, let’s face it. It was Stiles.

“Whoa, whoa, what are you doing?” Derek couldn’t tell if Stiles was joking of being serious.

Derek let some of Stiles’ trademark snarkiness creep into his voice. “What, you can be in my head, but I can’t be in yours too?” That drew a puzzled look from Stiles. Derek grabbed his hands and continued to pull him down on top of him.

Again, Stiles backed off. Derek propped himself on his elbows and looked at him expectantly. Stiles seemed like he was concentrating really hard on his feet.

“Derek, before this goes any further, I need to say something.”

Derek kept his gaze fixed on Stiles, but definitely did not think about how adorable he looked when he got all vulnerable and focused. “Shoot.” 

“I can’t do this if you keep trying to kill yourself. I can’t lose anyone else. When Deucalion had you, I felt it. You wanted to die.” It was an oddly emotional statement and seemed to come out of left field. But Derek could tell he had been thinking about it for a while. Stiles looked like he was about to say something more, but stopped himself. 

Derek was quiet. He sat up, and put a finger to Stiles’ chin, forcing it upward enough for Derek to see his eyes. He sighed. “Stiles.” Stiles looked away. “Stiles. Listen to me. You stopped me. You convinced me to fight. To survive. You knew what was in my head, and you stopped it cold.”

Stiles’ expression looked slightly relieved, but his eyebrows furrowed instantly after relaxing. He pulled his gaze away from Derek again. Derek brought him back. “What if I can’t the next time something happens?”

“You did it once. More than once, actually. You have saved me more times than I can count, Mr. Stilinski.” It was true. Stiles always seemed to be there when Derek needed him the most. The thought made his heart spread pleasant fire through his veins. “As long as you are in my head, you don’t need to worry.” Stiles face relaxed, and he smiled. Derek wished that Stiles would smile all the time. He loved that smile, and he loved the person to whom it was attached. Whatever Stiles wanted, Derek would do his best to give him.

Stiles’ grin deepened. He pushed derek’s chest back down to the bed, and slid himself onto Derek’s pelvis. He sat there for a moment, transfixing Derek with his eyes. “Good. Because if you do, I will rip your throat out…” He moved in to kiss Derek’s lips, biting down on his upper one enough to make Derek growl quietly and snick his eyelids closed.

“… With my teeth.” Stiles finished his statement in Derek’s head

**Author's Note:**

> Feel free to check out my tumblr for other Sterek-related stuff here: http://watchthewolvesrun.tumblr.com/


End file.
